


Mark of the Aurochs

by Apricitic



Series: The Stray Series [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6644506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apricitic/pseuds/Apricitic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Stray, because I just don't know when to leave well-enough alone.</p><p>Three months after the defeat of Papillon, everything has settled back to normal, and for the most part, things are happy. But when Chat Noir encounters a problem with his ring, he accidentally stirs up new trouble for the whole group. In a deep cave, an old king lies and waits. In a high tower, a new weapon is being developed and filled with power. And in the Agreste mansion, not everything is as it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> As you probably read in the description, this is a sequel to Stray. For full understanding, it would probably be good to read that first. But I'm going to try to explain things as best as I can, so that if you'd rather jump on here, you can. If anything is confusing, please let me know.

Chat Noir gagged as they ran along the slippery stone walkway, trying not to fall into the dark sewage below. “This is so not fair,” he whined, one clawed hand covering his mouth and nose. “They’re doing this on purpose now, I swear. Everyone knows that cats have sensitive noses.”

“Third time this week,” Peacock said, stumbling along behind him. Without the benefit of night vision, she had to rely on the glow coming from the screens in the handles of her fans, to avoid running into absolutely everything. “I doubt it’s just because of you, though. Criminals have been running into the sewers to hide for as long as there have been sewers.”

“Still,” he said, slowing as they came up to a four-way intersection. His ears twitched on his head, listening for the faintest sound. “Hate hate hate it, every time.”

They stood for a second, quiet except for the sound of rushing water (and other ingredients).

“What do you think about ‘Pavane’?”

“Huh?” Chat Noir glanced back at her, confused.

“It’s a dance, _and_ it’s named after a peacock. Supposedly.” Peacock shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m starting to scrape the bottom of the search engine barrel here.”

Chat Noir laughed, stepping back. He sprung off the edge of the walkway suddenly, over the flood of sewage, to the walkway on the other side. “Left. We’re going left. And I think you’re stuck as ‘Peacock’, now.”

“No way!” Peacock pushed down hard with her fans, stirring up wind that kicked her across the stream after him. “I told you, that’s just a placeholder. I’m still going to come up with something more interesting and creative!”

“You saved the world as Peacock,” Chat Noir said, catching himself before he could slip, beginning to run again. “It was in all of the papers, and on all of the televisions. I think the name has stuck now.”

“Then I’ll unstick it,” she said, gaining on him. “That’s seriously such a lame superhero name. It’s really hard to come up with these things!”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said, leaning forward. The gust from her fans had cleared away a lot of the stench for a moment, and he had caught onto a scent, a faint one—a little girl, wearing expensive clothing and perfume. The hostage! “Ladybug and I kind of panicked and went the obvious route, too. Volpina is only Volpina because Papillon named her that. Gamera is the only one that got off lucky, and even then, not by much.” Old Showa-era kaiju films were experiencing a recent surge in popularity, all over France, he had heard.

They were running into the older parts of the sewers now, the ones dating back centuries. New steel and modern cement were giving way to old, rusty pipes and ancient, crumbling brickwork. Some sort of moss or algae was underfoot, and he nearly went skidding off into the slow-moving murk of the narrowing tunnel. He crouched on all fours for a minute, listening.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Peacock asked behind him, holding up a fan. The pale light lit up the cramped tunnel ahead, dimly. “There’s a—“

“A grate, I know.” Chat Noir blew out, fighting the urge to gag again. “But not a dead end.” She couldn’t hear it. He could. The little girl’s voice, crying and screaming from just beyond. The older man telling her to shut up, panicking, muttering about how no ransom payment was going to be worth all of this. Both voices not far, but nearly lost in the background sound of rushing water.

He’d found them. That was the important thing. Soon this would all be over. But first, the grate was in the way, blocking them from getting to the tunnel beyond. He took a breath, lifting one claw. “Cataclysm!”

The black energy surrounded his hand, shaking and pulling power into the claws. His hand began to shake with it, and, practiced, he tightened it into a fist for a moment, waiting for the energy to finish channeling, to settle so that he could cut through the grate.

It didn’t finish. More and more black energy pulled in, making the shaking worse and worse. His eyes widened. “Something’s wrong. I can’t—“

The Cataclysm suddenly exploded, throwing them back. Chat Noir cried out as he landed in the flowing murk in the middle of the tunnel.

“Chat Noir!” Peacock yelled. She crouched on the edge of the walkway, holding out the glow from her fan as far as she could, searching the water. After a moment, his head emerged, and she reached out, grabbing onto him, pulling him back up.

“Aghgh!” He slumped on the slimy stone, completely wet. “This is _not_ how I wanted this day to go!”

Peacock, pulling him away from the edge, stopped suddenly. “You detransformed.”

“I did?” He swiped his hand over his eyes, and opened them. Near blind, from the sudden loss of night vision in the dark tunnels. His arms were bare, no more superhero suit covering them. “I don’t know what’s… Plagg?!”

Weak coughing from behind him. “Right here,” Plagg called. A small wet shape trembled on the brick, looking miserable. “Sorry. I don’t know what happened. I don’t feel so good…”

A loud scream echoed through the tunnels, loud enough to overcome even the ambient noise in the background. Peacock stiffened, then ran toward the grate. “Stay there. I’ll be right back!” The rusty metal was already damaged from years of neglect, and from the Cataclysm’s explosion a few seconds before. She struck it with her bladed fans, over and over, until it dented. Then kicked through it with a yell, and pushed herself into the tunnel beyond, racing forward. “Thousand Eyes!” she called from some distance away.

Adrien moved his hand in the darkness, fumbling around until he found Plagg. The kwami was shaking, warm to the touch, his breaths heavy and uneven. He frowned, lifting the Plagg up, trying to clean him off. “What’s going on with you?”

 

.:|:.

 

“Marinette?” Sabine Cheng called, gently pushing open the door. “It’s almost noon, and I haven’t heard a peep from you yet. Are you awake?”

Marinette looked up from the mannequin she had pulled to the center of her bedroom. She removed a couple of sewing pins from between her teeth, sticking them into the blue fabric she was awkwardly trying to hold over the mannequin, several inches taller than she was. “Good morning, Mama! Sorry, I’ve been a little focused lately.”

“I can see that.” Sabine smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Is that a dress you’re making? It’s lovely.”

Marinette strained, leaning as far away from the mannequin as she could without dropping the fabric wrapped around it. “Hopefully it will be soon!” She grasped at a pile of ribbon at the edge of her desk, just out of arm’s reach.

Amused, Sabine walked over, picking up the ribbon and handing it to her. “What is it for?”

A bright blush immediately filled Marinette’s face. “Oh, you know, uh… It’s a secret.”

“A secret?” Sabine tilted her head. “Normally I’d leave it at that, but the last time you kept a secret, it involved you fighting monsters while dangling high in the air from a yoyo string.” She could see Tikki from here, curled up and napping peacefully in the small shoebox bed they had set on the windowsill.

“Mama!” Marinette carefully unwound the ribbon, and began pinning it into place around the dress’s neckline. "Please, this is such a weird, experimental cut… I don’t even know if it will work out. It’s just something I’ve been playing around with, nothing serious.”

“You were up most of the night with ‘nothing serious’, weren’t you?” Sabine patted her daughter’s shoulder, heading back toward the door. “Well, I won’t pry. I just wanted to let you know lunch is almost ready. …I think Adrien will like it, though, for whatever it’s for. It’s a good color on you.”

Marinette’s blush deepened. For a moment, she fumbled with the pins, struggling to concentrate enough to get the ribbon on straight.

 _”Cherie!”_ a deep, booming voice called from the bottom of the staircase. “Are you still coming down? Or are you so afraid I’ll kick your butt at the new video game that you’re hiding now?”

“You bought the new one?” Marinette called back, immediately distracted. She grinned, sliding a few more pins in place, just enough to keep the fabric together while she was gone. Then she stepped away, turning toward the steps herself. “Hold on—coming Papa!”

The spring sun was shining through all of the windows. Faint music played from somewhere downstairs, and the warm smell of baking things wafted through the air. She kept her phone on her, just in case they needed Ladybug, but so far, on this beautiful Saturday, no one had. Everything had been dark for so long, that winter, but for now, everything was perfection and light.

Excited, she ran down the stairs, two at a time. Nothing could possibly go wrong, on a day like today.

 

.:|:.

 

“Something went wrong,” Adrien said, “on today of all days.”

“Hmm.” Master Fu leaned over the front desk of the massage parlor, peering down at the feverish cat kwami. Plagg had been laid down on a soft towel, next to a piece of camembert. Somehow, despite five minutes having passed, the camembert was still there, untouched. He could see that Adrien was in a panic over it. “What, exactly, happened?”

“We were chasing a kidnapper in the sewers,” Alya said, beside Adrien, looking just as confused. “A grate was in the way, and Chat Noir tried to Cataclysm it. But it seems like it didn’t work properly?” She glanced at Adrien. “Like, it exploded, or…?”

“It was weird,” Adrien said, shrugging. “I don’t really know how to explain it. Normally the glowy energy stuff just kind of flows through my claws, you know? This time, it’s like something was making it back up, and get stuck.”

“Hmm,” Master Fu said again, prodding Plagg. The kwami barely moved in response, hardly awake. “Adrien. 請給我你的手.”

Alya glanced at Adrien, lost. Adrien, understanding, obediently held out his hand.

Master Fu took it, turning it this way and that, examining the ring on Adrien’s finger. He sighed. “This is a little more difficult, without Wayzz. Still…” He reached over with one hand, picking up a pen and tapping the small gong sitting on the counter. As the sound waves pulsed out over them, Adrien’s ring turned black for a moment, the green paw symbol lighting up. Except for a small area, at the base of the ring’s face, where a small gray line remained.

“There. Did you see that?” Master Fu asked, as the sound faded and the ring returned to normal gray.

Adrien lifted his hand, looking more closely at it. “A scratch?”

“Or a crack,” Master Fu said. He leaned back in his chair, frowning. “Do you remember your fight against Papillon?”

“How could I forget?” Adrien asked. The experience had been traumatic, to say the least.

“Plagg was already injured, going into that fight,” Master Fu said. “From what you’ve said, when you were on the verge of losing, Plagg forced a Cataclysm to detonate through your hand, right? Despite the strain that put him under. And beyond that, even after he had exited the ring, you aggravated the situation more by forcing more Cataclysms. Yes?”

“Whoa there,” Alya said, “You’re making him feel guilty. Look at his face!” She elbowed Adrien, trying to smile at him. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You had to, right? We all pushed ourselves pretty hard that day.”

“Yeah, but Plagg…” Adrien shook his head, feeling terrible. He reached out, stroking the cat kwami gently. “So I did this to him?”

“He did it to himself, mostly, I think,” Master Fu said. “And Alya is right. If you hadn’t, the world would probably have been lost that day. Still.” He tapped Adrien’s ring with his pen. “Your miraculous is damaged now. Every time you use Cataclysm, it’s going to get a little bit worse.”

Alya whistled. “That’s not good. That’s what’s keeping you alive right now, right?”

It was. Thanks to what had happened after the final fight with Papillon, both he and Marinette needed their miraculouses to survive from now on. If his ring ever came off, he would die. But right now, that wasn’t what was concerning him. Plagg was obviously affected by all of this. He looked so weak and miserable, laying on the fluffy towel on the counter. “What can we do?” he asked softly.

“Well.” Master Fu reached forward, gently scooping Plagg up. “I’ll take care of Plagg. I have thirty minutes before the next appointment. That should be enough, and he’ll be back to normal. But.” He looked up at Adrien, stern. “No more transformations. If you don’t want him to get sick again, or for the crack to spread through the ring, you must stay human.”

“For how long?” Adrien asked.

“How long?” Fu shook his head. “Jewelry is not like living creatures, young man. A crack will not just fix itself. As long as that damage is there, you’re going to have to leave the superhero business to your friends.”

“So, forever?” Adrien asked, dismayed. “That can’t be right! What if they need me? Surely there’s a way to fix it or something.”

“Oh, sure,” Fu said, walking toward the door that would lead him toward the back of the shop. “Except that the miraculouses were created by a civilization much more advanced than our own. Even if the tools needed to fix it were somewhere here on earth, we wouldn’t know how to use them, might not even be _capable_ of using them. And you would probably have to take your ring off to do it. It would probably be easier to just build a new miraculous from the ground up, honestly.”

“Shifu, please,” Adrien said. “Please! There must be _something_ I can do. I can’t just not be Chat Noir anymore! People are counting on me!”

“There is something you can do.” Master Fu paused, halfway through the door. “Do me a favor, and sweep the lobby before the next round of customers comes. I will be back with Plagg in a little while.” He stepped through, waving. “And don’t do anything rash, while I’m gone!”

He and Alya stood there for a moment, stunned.

“Dang, I don’t know what to say,” Alya said at last. “Adrien, I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, examining the ring. “It’s mine. I’m so _stupid_ for letting this happen…!”

“No, you’re not,” Alya said. Her phone chimed. She reached for it, distracted. “You had to, remember? We’re very grateful you did.” She paused, glancing at the text message on her screen. “Look. We’ll figure something out, okay? We’ll look into it, I promise. But…”

“You’ve got to go,” he said, sighing. “Tutoring, right? That’s fine. I’ve got a session in a few hours, too.”

“That, and I left my kwami outside, and it’s only a matter of time before he gets in trouble somewhere.” She turned toward the front door. “Good luck, Adrien…”

“You too,” he said, reaching for the broom Master Fu kept behind the counter. Full of worry, he began to work his way through the parlor’s empty waiting room. An old CRT television, a small one, was propped up in a corner, filling the shop with background noise. Normally it was on a station playing random melodramatic Asian dramas, but today, it was news. Although distracted, he had to smile when they replayed the story from earlier, Peacock returning the little girl safely to her billionaire parents in front of a small crowd of reporters and flashing cameras. They had done good work today. He had helped.

It was probably the last time he would be able to help, though, right? No more Chat Noir. The broom strokes on the wooden floor slowed, as he grew more and more distracted by the television. The news anchors had cut away now, and were talking about an event that would be held in a couple of days, some sort of celebration in the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, crowded among all of the retail stores and throngs of tourists. They flashed to an image of a field reporter talking with some excited event organizer, but Adrien’s eyes were on the Arc de Triomphe, tall and elegant in the background.

He could remember fighting an akumatized villain, months and months ago, that had somehow managed to fly all the way to the top of that Arc. Ladybug had been chasing after him, but had slipped, losing her grip on her yoyo string, and started plummeting. He had caught her, just in time, and held her safe. If there were ever a next time, if she ever fell again, he wouldn’t be there to catch her.

The door opened behind him, setting off the small chime to announce a customer. He turned, brought back to the lobby suddenly. “Hello! Are you here for an app—Nathalie?”

“Good afternoon, Adrien,” Nathalie Sancouer said, letting herself into the lobby. She looked around at the little shop with interest. “Or—sorry, should I say Monsieur Agreste, now?”

“’Adrien’ is still fine,” he said, lowering the broom. “What brings you here? Are you getting a massage?”

“No,” she said, lowering a briefcase from its strap on her shoulder, setting it down on one of the chairs. “I think I’ll probably settle for letting the stress of my job build up until I succumb to an early grave.”

“…Hah?” He was pretty sure she was joking?

“I’m actually here for you, Adrien,” she said, bending down to unzip the briefcase. “Of course I am. You are my new employer, after all. You’ve entrusted me with looking after the affairs of the Agreste business for you. So here I am, attempting to look after them. Won’t you return home with me? I really do need to meet with you.”

Adrien shifted, suddenly awkward. “I don’t know, Nathalie. I’m happy living here now. Shifu really appreciates my help, and…”

“Is it because of your father?” Nathalie straightened suddenly, her pale blue eyes glancing over him dispassionately. "Because, I assure you, we are already prepared to deal with that situation. It is a matter of very simple, quick construction, to partition off one of the halls of the house. We can have it done in two days. And we are prepared to employ the most stringent security available. You need not ever run into him. You could entirely forget that he was even in the same building, if you wished.”

“It’s not that,” Adrien said, playing with the broom handle. “Or, okay, it’s not _only_ that. It’s just… I don’t know. The house in general has a lot of bad memories now. Does that make sense? I-I’ll come back eventually, but for now, I’d really rather stay here.”

Nathalie sighed. Adjusted her fashionable designer glasses, then reached down into the briefcase. “Very well, then. I suppose I’ll just have to bring the business to you, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here.” She pulled up a folio, and held it out to him. “Take this.”

He took it, and opened it. Pages and pages of clothing designs were inside. He flipped through them, confused. Formal wear, evening wear, casual. Men’s. Women’s. Children’s. A full range of colors, textures, fabrics, all eye-catching, all unique. He was just a model, had never had any sort of instinct for the design itself. But even he could tell—some of these were _incredible_. “What are these? If you’re wanting me to take more modeling jobs, I really can’t, right now. They’re cracking down so hard at school, and with my work here—“

“No, sir. That’s not why I’m having you look at them.” Nathalie took half a step toward him. “While you’ve been away, we’ve been… Well, we’ve been struggling, sir. Our business is very invested in the Gabriel Agreste name, a name that now summons only hatred and fear from every direction. Our sales have been plummeting drastically. If we don’t act quickly, we could lose everything.”

“I see,” Adrien said, even though he still didn’t see everything, didn’t see how this was connected to the drawings in his hands. “Well… Maybe that’s not so bad, right? We’ve got lots of money stored up to live off of, and I didn’t really plan on going into the fashion industry anyways. Maybe we should let it go. I mean, it’s not like we have another designer, right?”

Nathalie’s hands clenched at her sides. “Some of us care deeply about this business, sir. Some of us have spent our entire lives working to build it up, and don’t want to see all of that hard work disappear, just because the designer was a jerk and a moron.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Adrien hadn’t even thought of that. He looked at the folio again, frowning. “Well, if you’ve got an idea, I’m all for it. But I don’t know what we can do about my father’s reputation. I mean…” Sadness. He held the folio out to her. “I can’t blame people, for hating him. If no one wants to buy his designs anymore, then there’s not much we can do, is there?”

“There is. There is something we can do.” Nathalie reached up, pushing the folio back into his hands. “These are Gabriel’s latest designs. He’s been working relentlessly on them, ever since he was released into house arrest. He knows no one will look twice at them, as long as they bear his name. That’s why he’s already given his consent.” She met his eyes, completely serious. “We want to pass you off as the designer, Adrien. You’re well-known in the fashion world already, you carry the Agreste name, and for the most part, people tend to like you. No one really knows that you can’t design a decent gown to save your life. If we release this as _your_ newest collection, I think it will be quickly embraced.”

“Mine?!” Adrien shook his head. “My father’s the genius, not me!”

“But no one knows that,” Nathalie said. “He would do all of the hard work, and I can handle promotion. All you have to do is agree to let us use your name.”

“I don’t know, Nathalie,” Adrien said. “This feels wrong. If we were caught—“

“We won’t be caught. Please, Adrien, this is the only thing that can save the company. I know it will work. Everyone would be expecting great things from you anyways, and it’s the sort of thing the press would love, a young prodigy, following in his father’s footsteps—“

Adrien’s eyes hardened. “I don’t want to follow in his footsteps! Or anything else of his, for that matter.”

“Okay,” Nathalie said, slowing down. “So I misspoke. The point is—“

“The point _is_ , I don’t want to do it,” Adrien said, pushing the folio back into her hands. “I’m sorry. But that’s underhanded and sneaky, and I don’t like the idea of it. If my father’s company dies, it dies. He brought that on himself! I…” He shook his head, more torn than he liked to admit. “I won’t do it. If there’s another way to save it, then fine. But he used the money from that company to do a lot of bad things in the world.”

“Adrien, be reasonable,” Nathalie said, clutching the folio. “This is a big thing you’re just throwing away! The Agreste name is tied up in it, your whole family line is. We have money now, but when you’re older, you may be penniless. What will happen to your legacy?”

“My legacy won’t be overshadowed by the Papillon.” He picked up the broom again, turning away. “I’m sorry, Nathalie. It was a great company. I was so proud of him, for so long… But it’s tainted now, and I can’t look at it quite the same way anymore. However much I still care about it, it’s painful. Sometimes it’s better to just let painful things fade away.”

Nathalie frowned. “We’re not just talking about your father’s company anymore, are we?”

Silence.

She studied the folio, determined. One way or another, she would find a way to save her life’s work, with or without the Agrestes. But for now… “Well then. If that’s how you feel, I suppose I can see why you’re afraid to come home. Still, though, you might consider it, sir. I won’t argue that it would make him happy, although we both know it’s true. But I do wonder how happy you can be, hiding from your problems over here.” She nodded toward him, before turning toward the door. “Anyways. Au revoir.”

Adrien stood alone in the waiting room, too distracted to sweep. The door remained closed, where Nathalie had left through it. His ring was gray on his finger. The news droned on in the background. He was alive and well, and so was Marinette, and so were all of his friends. They had saved Paris, and earned a happy ending for themselves. So why did he feel so miserable?

The news anchor droned on, still, from the gardens near the Arc de Triomphe, about the preparations taking place. He rested his hand on top of the broom handle, inspecting his ring, remembering, suddenly, a stray train of thought.

Hey. Wasn’t the Louvre not far from the Arc de Triomphe?

 

.:|:.

 

Nino emerged from the record shop, blinking in the midday sun. It was more packed than usual, today. Apparently a new Jagged Stone album had released and brought in the crowds, and that was cool, he guessed. But he was really excited about the stack of old records from a band called Mxy Pxy that he had found, hiding in the back, covered in dust. The sounds were a little old-fashioned, but his head was already spinning with ways to combine them, lay a synth track over them, and—

Tugging, on his arm. He looked down, shifting the records in his arms so that he could pull the headphones off of his ears. A little boy was staring up at him, wide-eyed. “Hey, little dude,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Are you Gamera?” the boy said, barely above a whisper.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, that’s me.” He pulled his head away from music, taking in the cartoon turtle on the boy’s shirt. “Are you into turtles or something?”

“Yeah!” The boy grinned wide. “’Specially ‘cause of you. You’re my favorite! Hold on, mister.” The boy pulled his backpack off of his shoulders, rooting through it. “Will you sign something for me? Oh man, don’t tell me I didn’t bring a pen!”

“Hold on, I got you, kid.” Nino reached into his pocket, grabbing a ballpoint. “You’re really a fan, though? Of me?”

“Of course! You’re the coolest one!” The boy held out a plastic container of bubbles, excited.

Bubbles. Of course it would be bubbles. Still… “Aw, I’m touched, little guy,” Nino said, reaching out for the container. “You’re awesome, you know that? I mean, sure, I’d always hoped it would be for my music, but still, being appreciated for this is pretty cool, too.”

Snickering. Chloe and Sabrina were walking down the sidewalk along the storefronts, loaded down with shopping bags. By chance, they had come near now, probably headed toward the jewelry store a couple of storefronts down. He stopped for a moment to wave at them.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Oh look, Sabrina. Another person dressing up as a hero. How pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” Nino frowned, signing his name to the bubble container. The soapy water would probably just wash it off the first time the boy played with it, but who was he to point that out? “Since when are superheroes pathetic? You’re the one who was such a big Ladybug fan, weren’t you?”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Chloe said, pretending to be sick. “That was before I found out that she and Chat Noir were both secret losers in real life. I’ll admit it, I’m embarrassed. I should have known from the beginning that there was nothing cool about what they did.”

“And why is that?” Nino asked, against his better judgement, trying not to be annoyed. “Without Ladybug and Chat Noir, none of us would be here right now, right? Living is pretty cool by me.”

“Maybe, but they’re cheaters!” Chloe said, crossing her arms in disgust. “They seem flashy thanks to their superpowers, which make it so easy for them. But what about those of us who don’t have superpowers, huh? The ones who were out in the street fighting anyways, with no Lucky Charms or Cataclysms to back them up! Those are were the _real_ heroes that night.”

“Leave him alone!” the little boy cried out, clutching his autographed bubbles. “I think the superheroes are way cool! You’re just jealous, is all!”

“Jealous?” Chloe laughed, a nasty laugh. “Hardly.”

“I don’t know, Chloe,” Sabrina said softly from just behind Chloe, weighed down by the bulk of the shopping bags. “It might be kind of cool to have superpowers. Um, that is… Maybe. Don’t you think?”

Chloe scoffed. “Don’t be deluded, Sabrina. Either everyone gets superpowers, or no one should. And if only a few people get them, then it shouldn’t be these weirdos.” She waved a hand at Nino. “It should be the really impressive people, like your father, maybe. Not the runner up for the worst animal mascot ever over here.” She began walking forward, nose in the air, just a single tiny shopping bag dangling from her hand. “Come on, Sabrina. That jewelry isn’t going to buy itself.”

“A-actually,” Sabrina said, lowering her dozens of bags to the pavement for a moment. “I kind of wanted to buy the new Jagged Stone album today. Remember? I-if that’s okay, th-that is.”

“Ugh, fine, whatever,” Chloe said, passing by Nino. “Just don’t take too long. You’ve got the card, so it’s not like I can move on without you. I’ll be in the shop ahead.”

“Yes Chloe!”

Nino watched her leave, frowning. “Too bad,” he said. “It really seemed like she was changing there. I guess it was just temporary—she’s the same Chloe Bourgeois as always.”

“That’s not true,” Sabrina said fiercely. “You don’t know her at all!”

“What is there to know?” Nino asked. “She’s rude and inconsiderate, she seeks people out just to make them feel bad, she’s self-absorbed—she’s even making you carry all of her bags for her!”

“These?” Sabrina looked at the small mountain of shopping bags surrounding her, and shook her head. “These aren’t her bags, these are _mine_. She’s been down lately, so I asked to go shopping today, because that’s always cheered her up in the past. But she’s not enjoying it at all. She just keeps saying how all she can see, when she looks at these shops, is them on fire three months ago, and the streets full of frightened fleeing people. She’s totally traumatized! All I’ve gotten her to buy this whole day is that one little thing she was carrying.” She lifted her arms, demonstrating her own shopping bags. “Instead, she just keeps buying all of this stuff for me.”

“Really?” Nino asked. “But… She’s still so rude to everyone.”

“Uh, hello? Traumatized? It’s the only way she knows to deal with it.” Sabrina shook her head, beginning to load the bags back onto her arms again. “And she has a point, you know. It’s not just her. Do you even realize how dispirited the police are, lately? They work so hard, but what’s even the point of coming to work, if the superheroes are just going to get the credit? No one ever asks a policeman or a fireman for an autograph for saving people. They just complain about how they should do better and make fewer mistakes.” Her voice softened. “I told her about it, once, weeks ago, and she still remembers. She listens to me, now. She listens to everyone.”

Nino looked down the other end of the avenue, in the direction Chloe had gone, trying to process that. When he looked back, Sabrina had disappeared, slipping into the crowded record shop.

 

.:|:.

 

For five days in a row, Nathanael had walked home without being jumped or bullied. Normally he went straight home, in a short shot from class to apartment complex, eyes on the ground. But maybe the lack of incidences had boosted his confidence, because now, on Saturday, he had decided to spend hours on the park bench, drawing the view of the riverfront.

Which meant that Volpina was stuck spending hours on the nearest rooftop, too, bored out of her skull. She groaned as Nathanael turned another page and began another drawing, wondering when the boy would just give it up already and pick something else to do. She had considered that maybe it would be okay to leave him alone for a while, and patrol elsewhere. That maybe the bullies were starting to get the idea, and would start leaving him alone even if she wasn’t around. But she had spotted a few upperclassmen also in the park, not far away. They were minding their own business for now, but there was no guarantee that they would mind it forever. So Volpina sat, cross-legged on a security railing, trying to focus on a textbook.

She looked up ten minutes later, checking on him. She had to admit she was impressed—in just that short amount of time, he had blocked out a rough sketch of almost the entire line of buildings and businesses on the other side of the river. He kept erasing and re-sketching lines for a building in the center, looking frustrated. She looked up at it, wondering why.

After a moment, she figured it out. A crane was parked out front, and construction workers were streaming up and down the sides of the building, building a new façade. This was a thing that was happening all over, here and there, throughout Paris. This building, a restaurant that had existed for more than a hundred years, had a dragonfly motif, and had previously sported a giant dragonfly on its front, integrated into the architecture, wings spread in welcome.

Dragonflies were not butterflies. But ever since Papillon, winged insects in general were persona non grata—insecta non grata?—around Paris. Anywhere one was spotted, on any building or clothing or anywhere else, it meant bad luck, and people stayed away from it. The restaurant must be rebranding itself, making it look radically different. But she could see that Nathanael was struggling with it, trying to remember how the waterfront had looked before, not fond of the uglier, less imaginative new design.

She put aside the textbook, and retrieved her phone from her bag, doing a quick image search. After a moment, she lifted her flute to her lips.

Nathanael gasped in surprise as the waterfront shifted in front of him. The ugly building and the construction surrounding it seemed to disappear, the old dragonfly-themed restaurant laying itself over it. He blinked at it, pencil paused in his hand. Then realized what must have happened, and looked around for a moment, before glancing up at the building behind him.

Volpina ducked behind a chimney, out of sight. She took a breath. That was close. She didn’t want him or anyone else to know that she had taken an interest. At the best, they would think she was some kind of creepy stalker. At the worst, they would think she actually cared a little.  
From here, on the other side of the building, she could see the back of the park. Below, the upperclassmen had moved, it seemed, and cornered an older woman who ran an antique shop there. As she visibly begged and pleaded, they held her back while one of them shook a can of spray paint. Black paint shot out, covering the large sign on the window, tracing out a huge black butterfly shape.

The woman must have been akumatized, in the events of three months back. Volpina narrowed her eyes and gripped her flute, stepping forward. There was nothing better for boredom than teaching a group of obnoxious punks a lesson in manners.

 

.:|:.

 

Monsieur Kubdel looked away from the computer in his office, as the intercom on his desk buzzed. He slowly lowered his cup of tea back to its saucer, reaching over to press the button with one delicate finger. “Yes, Marie?”

“Yes sir,” Marie’s voice said from the intercom speaker, sounding slightly panicked. “You have a visitor who insists on seeing you, sir. _Adrien Agreste._ ”

“Really.” One eyebrow twitched in annoyance. The last time Adrien Agreste had “visited” the Louvre, it has been an absolute catastrophe for everyone involved. “Well. I suppose you’d better let him in. If you don’t, I imagine Chat Noir will be down here taking the very door off of its hinges in a moment.”

“Yes sir,” Marie’s voice said, before the buzz sounded of the intercom being switched off from her end.

Kubdel sipped on his tea, trying to enjoy just a moment’s relaxation before what was surely incoming. After a few minutes, the light over the high-security door flashed, suggesting that someone was ringing the bell outside. He calmly pressed the button to open it.

Outside, Adrien Agreste stood, surrounded by an escort of six museum security guards. The guards looked nervous, eyes fixed to the ring on the boy’s finger. Adrien was the opposite, casually smiling and waving at Kubdel. “Hello, Monsieur. I hope I didn’t trouble you. I asked the mademoiselle at the front desk if it was a bad time to meet with you. She seemed to have trouble answering me, though. How strange, a shy receptionist!”

“Monsieur Agreste,” Kubdel said primly. “I suppose you’ll want to take a seat.”

“Why is everyone so formal with me lately?” Adrien asked, helping himself to one of the chairs in front of M. Kubdel’s desk. “Just ‘Adrien’ is fine, really!”

“Then, ‘Adrien’,” Kubdel said. “I take it this visit is something to do with your other identity. Yes?”

“Er, yes, actually.”

Kubdel looked past him, to the security guards crowding uneasily in the doorway. “Thank you, you all can leave. I will call for you when Adrien is ready for his escort out.”

Reluctantly, the guards looked at each other, then stepped back, allowing the vault-like door to close behind them.

Adrien let the bravado of his smile drop slightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset everyone so much by coming here.”

“Yes, well, we’re all aware of what happened the last time you visited,” M. Kubdel said, looking him over slowly. “You must forgive us for being a little cautious now.”

“No, it makes sense.” A nervous laugh. “Sorry about that, last time. It really was necessary at the time, believe me.”

Kubdel sighed. “No, it wasn’t. Perhaps working from the information you had at the time, it appeared that way. But really, the arrogance of it all. You never cease trying to meddle in things that you don’t fully understand, do you?” He paused, fighting irritation. “How is Fu doing these days, by the way?”

“He’s doing well,” Adrien said. “He wanted me to invite you over for tea at some point, and a game, he said.”

“Really. Chess or Xiangqi?”

“He, uh… He didn’t say.”

“Hmph. Probably Xiangqi, then.”

“Monsieur Kubdel,” Adrien said, trying to bring the conversation back to the topic he had come here for. “Where did the museum acquire the Soh Tahn jewel?”

“What should it matter?” Kubdel asked, eyeing him suspiciously. “Surely you’re not trying to obtain more of it, after last time’s fiasco.”

“It’s for something very important,” Adrien said, running his thumb over his damaged miraculous. If he looked for it, he could, just barely, feel the crack. “And besides that, if there’s more of it out there somewhere, I could get some for you, too. To make up for the bit that I stole from you last time.”

“Hmm. Does Master Fu know that you’re here right now, asking me for this?”

“No,” Adrien said. It wasn’t that he was trying to hide it, more that he had left as soon as the idea had occurred to him, before Fu had been done treating Plagg.

“I believe it,” Kubdel said. “Still meddling in things you don’t fully understand.”

“I won’t use it for anything evil, I promise,” Adrien said, leaning forward. “Please, if you know anything, if there’s anything at all that you could tell me, I would be deeply grateful. In your debt, even.”

Kubdel paused. “In my debt? So you would be prepared to do me a favor, at some point in the future?”

“Yes?”

Kubdel tapped his fingers on the desk, considering. After a moment, he got up, walking toward a filing cabinet in the corner. “In the south of France, there is a village, a very rural one. Village du Taureau, I think it’s about an hour’s drive from Toulouse. They have a superstition there, about a cave filled with demons, ruled over by an old demon king who grants wishes. Supposedly a sort of Monkey’s Paw situation.”

He returned to the desk, holding a folder. He opened it, showing Adrien maps, pictures, handwritten notes on old yellowed paper. “A colleague of mine visited it once, when we were both younger. He came back with the Soh Tahn jewel. Supposedly, there is much, much more where it came from, in some of the deeper recesses of the caves. In addition to that, it’s of very strong historical interest, to the anthropologists among us.”

“Oh,” Adrien said, glancing over the pictures. Some of them were of cave walls, covered in old cavemen paintings. “Do you want me to take pictures for you, or collect samples or something?”

“Hardly. You’re no archeologist, you’d probably only damage something. I’ll reserve that for some future expedition.” Kubdel rifled through the papers, looking for something. “No, I think I’ll save my favor from you for something later. Just make sure you follow through, on fetching a Soh Tahn sample for me as well as yourself. It’s only fair.”

“Sure,” Adrien said. “Of course. Thank you, Monsieur Kubdel—this really helps a lot!”

“One more thing.” Kubdel pulled a bracelet out from between two sheets of paper. A very humble one, it was dried and fragile, appearing to have been woven from some sort of grass. “See that you wear this, when you go in. And do make sure it gets back to me, when you return. It’s worth more than you are.”

“I definitely will,” Adrien said, taking the flimsy grass bracelet. He studied it, frowning. “What’s it for?”

“Ah-ah,” Kubdel said, smiling and shaking a finger. “You have to earn your trust with me, young man, after what happened last time. Return to me with Soh Tahn and the bracelet. We’ll see where we go from there.” He leaned over, pressing the button on the intercom. “Marie? Monsieur Agreste is ready for his escort now.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien said, picking up the rest of the folder. “Thank you, Monsieur Kubdel, I really appreciate it.” Placing the bracelet back inside the folder, he stood, pressing a few buttons on his phone before lifting it to his ear. “Nathalie? Yes. Sorry to bother you. Could you arrange a flight for me?”

 

.:|:.

 

“I don’t know, it’s just boring, you know?” Alya was saying into the phone. “The Ladyblog used to be your one-stop place for any news about superheroes. But now that I _am_ a superhero, it doesn’t feel quite the same, you know? It’s all announcements we need to make, and no actual news.”

On the other end, Marinette frowned, phone held between ear and shoulder, as she worked on adding beading by hand to the bodice of the dress. “It’s still getting a lot of visits, though, right?” she asked. “People seem to still like it. More than ever before, even.”

Around her, her room was slowly being consumed by piles of fabric scraps and other sewing supplies. Her bed and her desk were practically invisible beneath them. This dress was slowly taking over everything, as difficult as it was to get done.

“Yeah, maybe!” Alya said into her ear. “But reporting is what I love, you know? Not being some social media manager. I want a scoop, something interesting, that no one’s figured out yet! I thought becoming a superhero was going to make things more interesting, not less.”

“Aww, poor Alya,” Marinette said, smiling. Until she accidentally stabbed her own finger with the needle, and frowned again. She pulled it away, determined not to get blood on the intricate beadwork. “Well, maybe move away from superheroes for a while, right? We’re the only superheroes around, and you already know pretty much all there is to know about us, right? You’ve got to look wider! Something will turn up, I’m sure of it.”

“I’m trying,” Alya sighed. “I spent all day today, walking around with my camera. Nothing. But… Maybe tomorrow. Do you want to come? We can catch a movie while we’re out.”

“Can’t,” Marinette said, holding her finger to a piece of scrap fabric in lieu of a bandage. “Tutoring. Ms. Mendeleiev.”

“Bummer,” Alya said. “Believe me, I’m right there with you. I’ve got her on Tuesday night. Still, you should do something fun tomorrow. Or tonight, I’m not picky. Don’t just lock yourself in your room all weekend, you hear?”

“I won’t,” Marinette promised. “Actually… I have an idea. Do you mind if I hang up?”

“Not at all,” Alya said. “Mom wants my help with something anyways. Have a good night, girl.”

“Good night!” Marinette said. She lowered the phone, thinking. From what Alya had said, Adrien had had a hard day. She had been waiting for him to call her about it, but there hadn’t been anything from him so far. He must be taking it hard.

She pulled up the search engine, typing in a few terms. There was a celebration happening soon on some of the main streets of Paris, and in preparation, carnival equipment was being set up, including a Ferris Wheel. She scrolled through the hours and the prices, getting excited. With her leftover allowance from the week before, she could _just_ afford two tickets that night.

She pulled up the phone app and tapped on Adrien’s picture, waiting. If anything could cheer him up, this might.

Waiting, waiting. Then Adrien’s voicemail, without any ringing before it. His phone must be turned off.

Frowning, she called Master Fu’s massage parlor. Waiting, waiting. Then, “Ah, yes, it’s Marinette. Hi! How are you doing this evening? Tikki? She’s doing fine. She’s downstairs with Mama, right now, picking out cake designs. Um…”

She blushed slightly, lowering her voice, just in case Mama wasn’t actually as downstairs as she thought she was. “Is Adrien there?”

A pause.

“He’s… Really? A flight? Where?” Another pause. Marinette turned away from the dress, frowning. Adrien had gone all the way to the south of France for the rest of the weekend, just like that, on the spur of the moment. Without telling her? Without telling Master Fu much, either, apparently. She frowned. What was going on with him today?


	2. Part 2

Under cloudy skies, Adrien trudged up the dirt pathway, away from the tiny village behind. Everything was quiet, almost eerily quiet. There were people in the small brick buildings below the slope, but for the most part, they didn’t come out. The ones that were in the streets were near silent, avoiding him, not answering called greetings. It made him slightly nervous. What were they all so afraid of?

Despite the gloomy weather, the area was nice enough. He looked around as he climbed the little hill, admiring the rolling farmland, rocky and craggy as it was in most places. This was a place that could be beautiful, all rustic and peaceful, thick forests in the distance. He loved the urban sprawl of Paris, but something about this area, in contrast, seemed much more peaceful. Almost sleepy.

“Plagg?” he asked, opening the pocket of his jacket. “How are you doing, buddy?”

“Mm?” Plagg stirred from his nap, blinking at him drowsily. Whatever Master Fu had done, it hadn’t helped much. The old man had said that it would require further sessions, that eventually Plagg would get better. But still, Adrien couldn’t completely fend off the worry, seeing Plagg so sick.

“Where are we?” Plagg asked, feverish. “It feels weird here.”

“I know, I know,” Adrien soothed. “We’re somewhere that’s going to make you feel better. Just hang on a little longer.”

He continued forward, looking up the rocky hill toward the cave mouth open above. They were covering Irish and English literature in class, Miss Bustier valiantly trying to cram their heads full of it before they ran out of time for the trimester. So much of it described landscapes just like this. _Up the airy mountain, down the rushy glen, we daren’t go a-hunting, for fear of little men._

At the top, an older woman from the village below was kneeling, reaching into a bag. Slowly, arthritically, she pulled out potatoes, carrots, beets, setting them all at the mouth of the cave. Adrien put on his best, brightest smile as he approached, not wanting to scare her too. “Preparing for lunch, madame?”  
She looked up at him curiously, reaching deep into the sack for more food. “An outsider, is it? What have you come to ask for?”

“Ask for? Um…” Adrien shrugged, good-naturedly. “I don’t want anything. I’m just digging up some rocks.”

“Rocks.” The woman pulled out a tangled mass of carrots, and began working to separate them. “Strange thing to ask the old king for.”

“Old king?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” The woman glanced at him again. “If you weren’t born here, that’s usually the only reason anyone ever comes. Desperate people, endangered people. They go into the caves to ask the old king for a boon. Some never come out. But the ones that do, wearing jewelry from the old king’s treasury, have their wishes granted. For a price.” She shook her head. “They aren’t human anymore, from what I’ve heard. Terrible powers, capable of miracles or horrors. And they’re never quite the same as they were before.”

“Is that right?” Adrien asked. “Funny. It sounds just like some fairytales we were studying in literature class not long ago. Maybe I can use it for a paper.”

The woman gave him a measuring look. “You are not someone desperate enough to be here, to throw their life away. I can tell, you are someone who has a happy life for themselves. I would advise you not to uproot it, young man, to not begin another cycle of misery for yourself. Be content, and return to wherever you came from.”

“Even if there is something dangerous in there, I can take care of myself,” Adrien said. He could feel Plagg’s weight, in his jacket pocket. “And… Turning around now isn’t really an option. I have to do this.”

“Oh, poor child.” The woman shook her head. Then whipped her hand out, suddenly, grabbing onto Adrien’s wrist. With one surprisingly strong motion, she ripped the woven grass bracelet off of his arm.

“Hey!” he yelled. “What are you doing? That’s not yours!”

“Do you see this?” the woman hissed, waving her hand at the vegetables laid out at the mouth of the cave. “Do you see how hard we work, to keep the old king content and sated, so that he doesn’t come out of his hole? I will not have you throw us all into jeopardy, just because you thought to come before him with something like this, to anger him by trying to cheat him of his prize!”

“Give it back!” he said, grasping for it. M. Kubdel was going to kill him.

The woman began ripping it into pieces, crushing and twisting the delicate bracelet. With a last defiant look at him, she took off, running down the rocky path back to the village.

He stared after her, angry. The people in this town were _weird_. The sooner he got this over with, and was on a return flight to Paris, the better. He reached into his backpack, retrieving his flashlight. Then, stepping over the row of vegetables, he walked into the quiet dark of the cave.

 

.:|:.

 

The same black car had driven past their school four times in a row now. Alya had dismissed it at first, but now it was getting a little harder to ignore. She could see it through the window, circling by on the road outside, slowing down as it passed by their school. An expensive-looking sports model. Was the driver lost?

She didn’t think Marinette, sitting beside her, had noticed a thing. The girl was staring off into space, lost in her daydreams as usual. Every now and then, she seemed to snap out of it, and return to the doodle of a dress she had been sketching out in the back of her notebook, a frustrated look on her face. But for the most part, Marinette was spacing out even more than usual today.

“Psst! Alya!”

She leaned over, looking at the blue and green kwami poking his head out of her book bag. “Shh! If they catch us talking, we’ll be in trouble.”

“Aw, but I’m bored,” the peacock kwami said. “And hungry!”

Alya sighed. “I have a packed lunch in the bottom of my bag. Help yourself.” She had been planning to spend her lunch break snapping photos today, instead of going home.

The peacock kwami ducked down suddenly, bashful. “I… may have already eaten it all.”

“Seriously?!”

“I was hungry! I’m still hungry!”

“Miss Cesaire!” Miss Bustier called. “If you can’t keep your kwami quiet, then I’ll have to ask you to take him to the principal’s office.”

“Sorry, Miss Bustier!” Alya called. “We’ll be quiet!”

“Please try to be,” the teacher said, before lifting her book again. “Now. Returning to Samuel Beckett. Ivan, would you kindly read the poem on page seventy-three?”

Alya waited a moment, for Miss Bustier to be distracted by Ivan’s plodding voice struggling to get through the words. Then she leaned down, reaching in her wallet and pulling out a euro. “Here,” she whispered. “There’s vending machines downstairs. Stay out of trouble this time, okay?”

“Okay!” the peacock kwami chirped, grabbing the euro and zipping toward the closed door. He phased out as he approached it, passing through.

Alya exhaled, leaning back in her chair.

Nino was studying Chloe again from across the aisle. If she were a more jealous type of girlfriend, Alya might have felt bothered by that. But she knew Nino, and she knew Chloe, and she knew there was no way someone so snotty and spoiled would ever pose a serious threat. Adrien’s seat was empty. Marinette was clearly noticing Adrien’s seat being empty.

She glanced around behind her for a moment, at Lila. The girl was missing their meetings again, where they decided who would transform and patrol on what nights each week. She had been hoping to ask Lila to fill in for her tomorrow night, so that she and Nino could go to the carnival. But the Italian girl’s face was dark and brooding right now, as though listening to some negative voice inside her head. Alya was almost afraid to ask.

Oppressively bored, she started to turn back to the question of the black car, circling around for the fifth time now, as a break from the crush of never-ending Irish poetry. Only to be brought back to the present by the sound of the door opening.

M. Damocles stepped in, clearing his throat. “Miss Bustier, could I interrupt for a moment?”

“Oh, of course,” Miss Bustier said, a little frazzled. She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “Is it 10:30 already? Pay attention, class. M. Damocles has something very important to say.”

The sound of rustling, as everyone struggled to sit up and focus.

M. Damocles stepped toward the podium, looking over them for a moment. Sighed. “Class. I know you’re feeling… a bit overwhelmed lately. We’ve been asking a lot of you. Extended school hours, and tutoring sessions afterwards, trying to cram in every bit of curriculum that we missed during the months that Papillon terrorized Paris.”

The mention of Papillon woke people up. He paused for a moment, waiting for them to settle down again and refocus. “In addition to that, it’s beautiful weather outside. I and your teachers realize that. We can’t entirely blame you for being distracted. You’re tired, you’re stressed out, and… Unfortunately, you’re not absorbing new information as quickly as hoped. Preliminary test results have been… Well, concerning.”

To the side, Miss Bustier looked down at her clasped hands, held tightly in front of her body, dispirited. The young teacher had been working harder than ever, trying to help them all, to increase the workload. She looked like she hadn’t slept in quite a long time. It had to be frustrating, to have all of that work result in so little effect.

“Unfortunately, if we can’t improve, there will have to be new measures,” M. Damocles continued. “Summer school, for one. If even that doesn’t work… Well, practically everyone would have to be held back, and repeat a year. I’m sure none of us want that to happen, right? So. We’re announcing a contest. A game, of sorts.” He held up a flier. “We all want summer break, don’t we? So, let’s work toward it! Each of your teachers, in each class, will have a certain academic challenge for you. You will be competing against your classmates, and you will be scored according to your performance. At the end of the month, the top three scorers in each class will be able to compete in a final round, for fabulous prizes. The one for first place is a travel package, provided by a local travel agency, for you and three others. You could take your entire family on vacation. Now wouldn’t that be nice?”

Chloe scoffed in the front row. “I guess that’s fine for _most_ of you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But for me, I can travel any time I want. The cost of plane tickets is no object. You’re going to have to work harder than that, to motivate me.”

“The travel package is being generously provided by Mayor Andre Bourgeois himself,” M. Damocles said, fixing her with a steely look. “He is very serious about your class not being held back, Miss Bourgeois. I can imagine he would be quite upset if we had to resort to holding you back anyways. The words ‘grounded’ were mentioned.”

Chloe paled. Her father had never threatened to ground her before. If even M. Damocles wasn’t afraid of her, this was a serious situation indeed.  
Kim raised his hand. “M. Damocles? You said every class. Does that include gym?”

“Yes, of course,” M. Damocles said.

“Then,” Kim said, “What about the people with superpowers? Isn’t that a little unfair? I’m never going to be able to outrun one of them.”

“Well,” M. Damocles said, frowning thoughtfully. “I suppose, if they were caught using their superpowers, we’d have to—“  
The loud alarm cut him off. Overhead, the fire sprinklers turned on. Shrieks and yells of surprise filled the classroom.

“Oh dear,” Miss Bustier said, trying to shield her book from the downpour. “Students, line up at the door! Let’s go outside quick and orderly, now.”

Alya stood with the other students. Nino looked back at her, confused. “What’s with the face?” he asked.

“Alya!” The peacock kwami popped out of the wall next to her, still phased out.

“You phased through the fire alarm?” she asked.

“Is that what that red box was?” The peacock kwami looked up at the water falling from the ceiling, fascinated. “Yeah. I guess I phased through the fire alarm.”

“Do you think he short-circuited it or something?” Marinette asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. But I am _not_ getting detention because of this. Little guy, in my bag, _now!_ ”

“Eep!” The peacock kwami zipped into the bag, hiding. Alya, now completely soaked, snatched the bag up and ran for the door.

 

.:|:.

 

The woman stepped out of the pizza restaurant towards the end of the day, carrying a heavy bag of trash for the dumpster. Tired, she took a moment to brush flour off of her uniform, looking around the alley behind the restaurant. What she wouldn’t give for a new job, with better pay and customers who weren’t complete jerks. She lugged the trash bag toward the dumpster, grunting as she lifted it and dropped it in.

As she turned, a flash of color in the dim alley caught her eye. There was a weird graffiti design painted onto the cobbled ground for some reason, sort of like an upside-down “A” in a circle, if the “A”’s legs were curved into outward spiral shapes. On top of it, someone had dropped a twenty-euro bill!

She looked around for a moment, for a possible owner. The alley was empty. So, guiltily, she stepped forward, bending down and reaching for it.  
The moment her fingers brushed it, the painted circle lit up. The waitress cried out as she felt herself going rigid, paralyzed. She stared down in surprise as a thick gold bangle materialized around her wrist.

 

.:|:.

 

 _We’re taking the quickest route today?_ Ebbe asked, floating near Lila’s head. _Why is that? Not going to follow pretty boy around today?_

“Nathanael’s gone an entire week without any problems,” Lila said, shifting her book bag around her shoulders. “Chances are, the bullies have learned their lesson. If not, I’ll teach it to them a few more times tomorrow.”

 _Good,_ The fox kwami said, scowling. _Because if you started in on that lovesick stuff again, I wouldn’t be sticking around. It’s beyond annoying, how emotional you humans get on that topic._

“Oh, totally agree. Emotions are annoying, even for me.” She was quiet for a moment, turning the corner onto the avenue leading home. “Ebbe? Can I ask you something?”

_I suppose. At least one of us should be decent at answering questions._

“Nino mentioned before that you were with a line of thieves, before you met me. What was the deal with all of that?”

He turned in midair, looking at her. His scowl was deeper than usual.

“Well?”

_…You have Chemistry tutoring. I just remembered. You need to go back the other way._

“Oh yeah.” She had almost forgotten. Had he really forgotten too, or had he just been going to keep quiet on it, to watch her suffer in amusement? She could never tell, with him. Slowly, she turned, looking back the way she had come. “Thank you. But why are you dodging my question?”

 _You still won’t answer my initial one,_ he replied, before zooming forward, going ahead of her. _Until you do, I don’t owe you any answers at all._

 

.:|:.

 

Gamera lifted his shield, blocking a blow from Ladybug’s yoyo. He ducked to the side, springing for a nearby rooftop, before throwing the shield entirely at her. Ladybug jumped high to avoid it, snapping her yoyo toward a nearby chimney. It caught, and she swung herself up, aiming a long flying kick toward him.

It was late sunset now, oranges and purples spreading through the sky high above the city. They were supposed to be patrolling, for at least a few hours, before it was time to go home and focus on homework. But the streets were quieter than usual, no crime happening anywhere that the police didn’t have firmly in hand. The choices were to start in on the textbooks early, or to practice sparring against each other. They had already been focused on school work for twelve hours before. The answer was obvious.

“A little more aggressive,” Ladybug called, as he pulled away from her kick. “You could have blocked that with an attack.”

“I’m not trying to actually hurt you,” Gamera said. He began sprinting, chasing after her.

“You won’t,” Ladybug said, swinging from roof to roof effortlessly. “But if you aren’t afraid to hit hard, then you’re going to get destroyed the first time you go up against another villain.”

“What other villain?” he asked, grinning. “The pickpockets and shoplifters we deal with now? Ooh, or maybe a vandalizer, with his scary graffiti powers!”

She rolled her eyes back at him, though she smiled too.

For another thirty minutes or so, they took turns chasing each other above the city, occasionally throwing attacks here or there. Finally, Nino was the one to slow down, holding up his hands in surrender. “Water break! Whew, sorry, Ladybug, I’m not quite as in shape as you are, I think.”

“Sure.” She dropped down onto the balcony next to him, a little out of breath herself. “I think there’s a water fountain, in the park the next neighborhood ov—“

Startled screams in the distance. They instantly focused, looking at each other.

“Well,” Nino said, climbing up onto the balcony’s railing. “Time to go to work.” He jumped, leading the way.

They moved swiftly forward, street after street. A loud boom came from the direction of the screams. Ladybug’s eyes widened suddenly as a small car was thrown high up into the air, straight toward them.

Gamera jumped in front of her, pushing hard with his shield. It pulsed with energy, repelling the car back down into the street. They stopped on the roof of a pizza place, looking down.

A woman laughed maniacally, lifting another car. Her clothes were tight-fitting, tan edged with white and black. Dangling from a long belt around her waist were two short spears, tipped with what looked like ivory. In addition to a mask, two black spikes seemed painted onto her face, one under each eye. A simple golden bangle, around her wrist. She growled ferociously, clawed hands shifting the car a little before throwing it at the fleeing restaurant customers.

Ladybug threw her yoyo forward, snapping the end of it around the car’s bumper, and pulled hard. It tugged the car off course just enough, sending it smashing into a lamppost instead of a terrified woman holding a baby. “Is that a _supervillain?!_ ” How?! Papillon was defeated, and the butterfly kwami should be safe at Master Fu’s shop. There shouldn’t _be_ any more akumas!

“Ah!” the woman cried, turning to face them, wild eyes glimmering with battle lust. Her pupils were slitted, dark against an amber background. “Ladybug! Turtle! It’s been a long time. What was it, the Battle of Thermopylae last?”

Gamera lifted his shield, frowning. “We don’t _know_ you, lady. Stand down. This doesn’t have to get violent.”

“On the contrary,” she hissed, grabbing the short spears from her belt. She focused, and they glowed, extending to a longer length, their tips sharpening dangerously. “The great king wishes for me to give this city a test. And, on a more personal level, you _humiliated_ me that day in battle. I! The great Sabertooth! Such indignities will not stand!”

Ladybug and Gamera braced themselves as, snarling, the woman threw her spears toward them.

 

.:|:.

 

Nathalie leaned back in her chair at her desk, studying the rows and columns of a very complicated spreadsheet. So much red in front of her, so few ideas for ways to turn the numbers black again. Her eyes were burning from working so long on them, and she resisted the urge to rub them, to risk smearing her makeup.

It was going to be another night burning the midnight oil, sacrificing her health for the ungrateful Agrestes. She frowned, turning to the other side of the contemporary white desk, reaching for the phone. At the very least, she would get a cup of coffee delivered to her, before the kitchen workers went home for the day.

Buzzing. Her hand paused on the receiver, as she looked back toward her computer. It was almost dark, so apparently, the security team had decided they just didn’t need to bother answering the door anymore, and had routed the front door intercom back up to her computer for the night. Suppressing irritation, she swiveled her chair back around to the computer and pressed a button. “Hello?”

A window popped up on her computer, the front door security camera flickering to life. “Er, hello there,” the person at the door said. He was looking down, at his wallet, squinting at the information written on a student ID. “Can I come in, please?”

“Adrien?” she asked, surprised. “You’re home? Really?”

“So that’s how you pronounce it,” he said quietly to himself, apparently unaware that the sensitive outdoor microphone could pick it up. He looked up into the camera then. “Um, yes! _Adrien_ would like to come in please. Unlock the door at once!”

Nathalie examined him for a moment. Someone must have had a rough flight back, to be so grouchy.

Uncertainty flickered over the boy’s features. “This is the right address, isn’t it? I was pretty sure I double-checked…” His head ducked down again, studying the student ID.

“No, this is your home. You’re always welcome here, sir. Forgive me, it’s been a long day.” Quickly, she entered the command to unlock the door. “Please, come in.”

On the screen, she could see him smiling and reaching for the door handle. She got up, straightening her business suit, and left her office to go greet him.

In the front foyer, Adrien slowly slid his duffel bag to the ground, looking around him with interest. He whistled lowly, taking in the chandelier, the expensive portraits, the clean modern design. “Very shiny,” he said to himself. “I could get used to this.”

“Welcome back, sir,” Nathalie called from the top of the stairs. She descended, still a little confused. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m very happy to see you. But I thought you weren’t going to come home for some time still?”

He shrugged, smirking. “Change of plans. I’m kind of a spontaneous person anyways, right? The kind that takes off on sudden trips alone. Whatever I told you before, I’ve changed my mind now.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Does that extend to my proposal?”

“Proposal?”

“You know,” she said. What had gotten into him, in the south of France? “About the business? The designs, and using your name.”

“Oh.” Brief confusion, though he quickly masked it. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you think is best, I guess. I don’t really care. Now.” He looked around again, grinning. “Show me to my room.”

“A-at once, sir.” She started to reach down for his duffel bag, then stopped. “Adrien! What happened to you?” His right hand was wrapped in bandages.

He glanced at it, and shrugged. “Just a mild burn I got on my travels, no big deal. It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Adrien.”

He turned at the new voice. A man in a suit, standing on the balcony above, looking down. An electronic shackle was wrapped around his right ankle, monitoring his movements. He gripped the rail, watching Adrien with a guarded, slightly vulnerable expression. “You’ve come home,” he said softly. “It’s been months… How have you been?”

Adrien turned, staring up at the man for a moment. Then, recognition flickered in his eyes. “Gabriel Agreste, right?” he said, pointing. “Man, you are in _all_ the papers, lately, it seems like. You were quite the mover and shaker not too long ago, weren’t you?” He glanced around the house once again. “Makes sense. You’re an Agreste. I’m an Agreste. Both of us pretty important people. This is going to be great.”

Gabriel paused, cutting off whatever he had been about to say. His eyes drifted down to Adrien’s hand, to the bandages covering up his miraculous. His eyes narrowed.

“Anyways, big fan of your work,” Adrien said, turning away. “But we’ll have to talk about it later. Miss! To my room, please.”

“Yes sir,” Nathalie said, picking up the bag. She carried it up the stairs, leading the way.


	3. Part 3

Ladybug threw her yoyo, grabbed Gamera, and jumped. Behind them, the twin spears pierced hard into the rooftop where they had just been standing, blasting tile in every direction. Ladybug swung them across the street, behind Sabertooth, then dropped Gamera.

Gamera hit the ground running. Sabertooth turned to meet him, grinning wide. She held up her hands, and the spears tore themselves free of the roof, flying back to her hand. “Face-to-face combat! So the Turtle has bravery after all!” She moved her arm in a circular motion, slamming the sharp ivory down for his chest.

He blocked with his shield, then blocked down to catch the rebounding spear coming from below. Gamera stepped forward, trying to push the shield at her. She stood her ground, raining more spear strikes at him. Trying to push this girl off-balance was like trying to push at a brick wall.

“Hey, Snaggletooth!” Ladybug called from behind. The yoyo wrapped around Sabertooth’s ankle, pulling it out from under her. The woman snarled as she was pulled toward Ladybug, throwing a spear.

Ladybug ducked, distracted just long enough for Sabertooth to free herself. She rolled to her feet, aiming her second spear for the red moving target, only to suddenly flinch and spin around moments before Gamera could hit her from behind.

“You may have more numbers,” she hissed, beginning to hit at him again. “But it will not save you. I am ten times the warrior you are, honorless coward! One with your limited abilities shouldn’t even _be_ in battle!”

Gamera was being driven back and back by the flurry of assaults. It took all the concentration he had just to keep blocking everything she threw at him. Whoever she was, she was strong, and she was very, very experienced.

“Lucky Charm!” Ladybug called from somewhere in the distance.

Sabertooth feinted, then swept low suddenly. Pain in his right leg. Suddenly, he was on his back, with no memory of having gotten there. Heart leaping, he raised his shield, only to feel it kicked out of his hands. Sabertooth loomed over him, one short spear aimed at his chest. “Utterly underwhelming,” she said. “As obvious now as it was then. Thousands of years of combat experience cannot compare to...whatever this one brings with him.” She lifted her spear. “Well? Are you going to face me yourself, finally?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Gamera asked, really wishing that he could reach his shield about then. “It doesn’t get more face-ey than this!”

Sabertooth ignored him, aiming her spear. “I’m going to kill your host, you coward,” she whispered with loathing. “You’re really going to stand by and do nothing? If someone tried to steal my property from right in front of me--!”

She paused, suddenly, a confused look on her face. Lifted her head, sniffing. “What is that? It smells--”

Rumbling, then a roar as brown sticky liquid suddenly poured from above, gallons and gallons of it in a concentrated stream. It slammed into Sabertooth and knocked her off balance, covering her. Gamera scrambled backwards, scooping up his shield. “What is that?” he yelled. “It smells like--”

“Maple syrup?” Ladybug crouched on top of the building above them, one arm hooked around the spout of the giant, over-sized maple syrup bottle leaning over the roof’s edge. “You got me. This is one of the _weirder_ things Lucky Charm has summoned. And believe me, that’s saying something.”

Sabertooth was trying to say something, to yell at them. But the words were coming out garbled beneath the sugary goop flooding into her mouth. She spat out, trying to reach down for her spears, even as the syrup began to harden, to slow her down bit by irritating bit.

“Oh no you don’t,” Ladybug said, swinging down. It was quick work, with Sabertooth slowed and distracted, to loop the yoyo string around and around until the woman’s arms were pinned to her sides.

“Thanks for the save,” Nino said, walking up beside her. “Careful. She hits hard.”

“I won’t say I told you so,” Ladybug said, holding tightly onto the string as the syrup-soaked woman thrashed and yelled at them. “The bracelet. It’s got to be.”

“Right.” Nino grabbed at the woman’s wrist, wrestling the golden bangle off of it. Her yelling increased to a fever pitch, only to suddenly die off the moment the bangle left her skin. She went limp in the hold of the yoyo string, her supervillain disguise beginning to crumble to reveal the waitress’s uniform beneath.

Nino lifted the piece of jewelry, ready to throw it down, to try to break it to reveal the akuma, if there was one. But before he could even get it above his head, it glowed, bright red. A small flash of light, and just like that, it disappeared.

 

.:|:.

 

“Alya! Look at _that_!”

Alya smiled as they strolled through the park, watching the peacock kwami stare at a passing dog walker in amazement. “That’s a bulldog,” she said. “Doesn’t his face look funny?”

“That’s a dog?” the kwami asked. “It’s very different from the other dog I saw!”

“Because he’s a bulldog,” Alya patiently explained. “There’s many different kinds of dogs, all--”

“I’ve never seen one like that before! Oh!” The peacock kwami zipped over to the other side of the street suddenly, staring at the balloons bobbing above an ice cream vendor’s cart. “Look at _these!_ ”

Alya laughed, following. As old as the peacock kwami was, chances were good that he probably actually had seen a bulldog at some point. But thanks to the amnesia that kwamis seemed to sometimes get, he couldn’t remember any of it, or anything at all, really, from before a few months ago. Combined with his personality, it was almost like dealing with a small child.

Alya didn’t mind. Alya liked children, was good with them, even. “Could I buy that balloon?” she asked the vendor, already reaching for her wallet.

She fished out a few coins. When she looked up again, the car was back, black, a sports model. She was absolutely sure it was the exact same kind as the one that had been circling around the school all during literature class. It slowed down near her, windows tinted, driving by very slowly before turning a corner.

The vendor, smiling, held out the big yellow balloon the peacock kwami had been most fascinated by. The kwami took the string, giggling. “It’s trying to pull me up!”

“Little guy,” Alya said, a little unnerved as she placed the coins on the vendor’s cart. “Let’s go home.”

“But why?” the kwami asked, pulling the string up and down, testing his new balloon. “We’ve only been here a few minutes!”

“I know. I just have a bad feeling.” That car was going to circle around again. She could tell by the path it was taking. She intended to be gone by the time it had. “Besides, you wanted to watch me play video games again, right?”

“Video games!” Excited, he flew forward, phasing through the ice cream cart to take the most direct route home. The balloon did not phase along with him, and Alya reached out quickly, snatching the string up before it could float away.  
“Slow down!” she called, chasing after him.

 

.:|:.

 

One Miraculous Ladybug and a quick run across town later, Marinette and Nino stormed into the massage parlor, seconds after detransforming. Their kwamis trailed behind them, slightly worn out from the fight.

Master Fu, who had been cleaning up after an appointment, poked his head out into the main lobby. “Hello, you two. I didn’t know you were coming. Is something the matter?”

“The butterfly miraculous,” Marinette said, slightly breathless. “Do you still have it?”

“Why, yes, but--”

“Can we see it?” Nino asked. “Please.”

Confused, Fu waved for them to follow him back past the shop rooms, toward his living quarters at the very rear of the building. He cautiously closed the door behind them, then activated the trap door in the gramophone sitting on a low table, getting to the black box underneath. Carefully, he undid the locks and, finally, opened it to reveal the colored compartments inside. Five of the seven compartments were empty, their miraculouses already claimed. Resting inside the other two were the bee comb miraculous and the butterfly brooch miraculous, their kwamis somewhere inside the jewels in deep hibernation.

Marinette picked up the butterfly brooch, examining it. “Are we sure this is the real one? It hasn’t been replaced like Volpina’s was, or anything?”

“That happened when I was very young and inexperienced,” Fu said, unoffended. He moved toward the refrigerator, noting the tired condition of the two kwamis. “Believe me, this is still our butterfly.”

“Can we wake him up?” Nino asked. “Just to be sure.”

Fu glanced at Wayzz. “What is going on?”

“They ran into an old enemy of ours,” Wayzz said, frowning. “One that should have been long-ago defeated. I doubt this is the case, but they’re checking to make sure it wasn’t an akuma.”

Tikki leaned forward, grabbing on to the edge of the brooch. It began to glow softly under her hands. “Noo--” She caught herself. “Butterfly kwami,” she said sweetly instead. “Wakey wakey.”  
The purple stone at the butterfly’s center slowly lit up. After a moment, purple light bloomed out from it in a small circle. The butterfly kwami unfolded from it, solidifying, stretching his wings out with a sleepy yawn. “Good morning, Tikki,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “Wayzz. Marinette, Nino, Fu. Have you been well?”

“Yes, very well. Thank you,” Marinette said. She cupped her hands around him, looking him all over. “So--”

“How long have I been dormant?” he asked, shaking himself awake. “Do you have a new partner for me or something?”

“No, no, not yet,” Marinette said. “And I think the last time you were awake was… Two months ago?” A glance at Fu, who nodded. “Two months ago.”

“Two months.” The kwami suppressed another yawn. “You were right, Wayzz. That’s probably the most comfortable nap I could--”

“Were you really asleep?” Nino asked, moving closer. “This is very important. Has anyone woken you up, or used you for anything at all, since the last time?”

“Well… No,” the butterfly kwami said, looking up at them. “How could they? Nothing happened while I was asleep, did it?”

“Not that we know of,” Tikki said, gratefully accepting the small pile of grapes Master Fu laid down on the table for her. She picked one up, letting herself sink to the polished wood with a sigh. “I’m not sensing any dark energy in him, Marinette. I don’t think it was him.”

“What was it, then?” Marinette asked. “That wasn’t just some girl running around in a costume. She had full superpowers! Who was she?”

Tikki nibbled on the grape, thinking. “She said she knew us from Thermopylae. But I don’t think I was _at_ Thermopylae at the time.”

“No, she was confused” Wayzz said, flying over to join them, dragging a heavy orange with him. He took a seat on a book, holding in a yawn. “Scarab was at Thermopylae. You were waiting back with the others in Athens, Tikki. Probably the smarter decision, in hindsight.”

“Wait,” Nino said. “So she did actually know us, then? Or you guys, at least? She was talking to the kwamis all along, and ignoring Marinette and I, wasn’t she?”

“Mm-hmm.” Wayzz swallowed his bite of orange, eating it peel and all. “There was a saber-toothed tiger kwami involved in that fight. I think. My memory gets a little fuzzy, going back that far. But if she’s the same one, she _should_ have been one of the ones that was captured and destroyed afterwards. I remember Jackal was very adamant about the issue--”

“Kwamis,” Nino said. “There are more kwamis on earth. Not just you seven?”

Wayzz gave him a baffled look. “Of course. Hundreds. Or there used to be, anyways.”

“Then where have they been all this time?” Nino asked. “How one earth were all of you a secret for so long, without anyone finding out?”

“It’s a long story,” Tikki said, working through her second grape. “Literally. Thousands of years. But the short version is that we weren’t, for a long time. It’s just that people these days read stories about strong ancestors with powers fighting monsters, and they just immediately decide it’s a myth.”

Wayzz nodded. “It doesn’t help that for a long time now, the mass majority of kwamis have been locked away. There was a big war. Like Tikki said, it would take weeks to tell you all of it. But nowadays, the number of active kwamis working around the entire earth is…” A shrug. “We’ve estimated maybe a dozen or so. It’s better that way. That’s all the world really needs, anymore.”

Tikki opened her mouth, about to disagree, then thought better of it and took a bite of grape instead.

The butterfly kwami was eyeing the fruit jealously. Marinette lowered him to the table, close to the apple Master Fu had laid out for him. “So,” she asked, “this Sabertooth. That was a kwami at work? But the waitress was so confused, when she woke up. I doubt she made any kind of contract-- she didn’t seem to be in control of her actions at all.”

Tikki and Wayzz glanced at each other. “Marinette,” Tikki said slowly, lowering her grape. “The way I and the others do things… It’s a little different. Most kwamis aren’t quite so nice to their hosts. And some of them, like the sabertooth kwami… Some of them are really, really mean. That waitress doesn’t remember because she probably didn’t have any choice. The miraculous was probably forced onto her arm, and then Sabertooth took her over.”

Kwamis could do that? Marinette shook her head, going over the new possibilities. If that was the case, the others that were somewhere else in the world, dozens of them… “So when the bracelet-- the miraculous-- disappeared at the end…?”

Wayzz exhaled. “...We haven’t figured that out, either. It shouldn’t have been able to do that. Your guess is as good as ours. But Sabertooth is still out there somewhere, and she’s apparently willing to possess people without their consent. You’re protected by your miraculouses, but for everyone else in Paris… She could strike again at any time, until we stop her and find a way to contain her.”

“Okay,” Nino said, reaching into his pocket. “I’m calling the others, then. Before we go in any further figuring out how to deal with this, we should get everyone together.”

Marinette nodded. “Is Adrien in his room?” she asked, setting her bag down on the ground.

“No,” Fu said, with a small frown. “I was beginning to wonder about that, actually. His note said that he would only be gone over the weekend. Yet it is Monday night, and he still hasn’t returned.”

“Really?” Instant worry. She pulled out her own phone, checking. No calls, no texts, nothing. “I’ll try to get a hold of him. Nino, you get Alya and Lila.”

Nino nodded, already in the process of getting it done.

 

.:|:.

 

The timer went off, pinging in the quiet air of the library. Chloe groaned, face in her hands. “Finally,” she said. “My brain can’t handle much more of this.”

“You did very well today,” Miss Bustier said gently from the other side of the table. “You both did. Just keep taking it one line at a time, and we’ll be through this poetry unit in no time.”

Sabrina smiled encouragingly at Chloe as she stood up, beginning to pack their books and papers into both of their respective bags. “If anyone can do it, it’s you, Chloe.”

“It had better be,” Chloe said, pushing away a book whose lines of letters had long since become a blurred-together mess in her vision. “I am not sacrificing salon time and putting bags under my eyes just to get grounded anyways.”

Miss Bustier was flipping through papers, preparing for the next tutoring session in a very long night ahead of back-to-back appointments. Alix and Mylene were already waiting on the other side of the library to start theirs in five minutes. But she paused, hesitating with a glance at her calendar. “Chloe. You don’t have any further study sessions tonight, correct?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, with a loud yawn. “That’s right.” In five minutes, she would be in the back of her private limousine, not having to think about anything hard at all. One stop to get her nails done, a couple of stops to make an appearance at press events for Daddy, then straight home, to sink deep into her very soft, comfortable bed for the rest of the night.

“Good.” Miss Bustier pulled free a sheath of papers from her large stack, sliding them across the table toward her. “Adrien wasn’t in class today, nor was he in his tutoring session earlier. He wasn’t called in and excused, so I’m going to guess it was another superhero thing, but…” She sighed, looking tired. “I’ve made him an outline of some notes, and a copy of the homework. Will you bring it to him?”

“Me?” Chloe asked. “Why me?”

“All of your classmates have been taking turns, dropping off homework to students who miss class,” Miss Bustier replied. “It’s a little inefficient, but it gets the job done. It’s just your turn, now.”

Chloe bit her lip, considering the papers. It wouldn’t be hard for her at all. The Agreste mansion was quite close to her own hotel, barely out of the way. And yet, it was so awkward, seeing Adrien now, remembering how she had chased after him for years, not even knowing that he was a superhero, that he was the one jumping between roofs above while below the buildings were going up in flames and--

“I’ll drop it off to him!” Sabrina said cheerfully, suddenly picking up the sheath of papers. Even though, for her, Adrien’s house was completely in the opposite direction from her own. “I don’t mind! It’s a lovely night for a walk.”

“Are you sure?” Chloe asked, coming out of her slight daze a little. “Ride with me, at least. I can have the driver drop you off and pick you up while I’m in the salon.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” Sabrina said, dropping the papers into her own bag. “Really. The diet I’m on lately wants me to exercise more anyways.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, smiling briefly at her, not quite ready to express full gratitude. But… “By the way, make sure that you’re not busy this weekend. Daddy and I are flying out to Marseilles, and I need _someone_ to help me apply sunscreen when we go to the beaches.”

“I will,” Sabrina said gratefully. “Thank you, Chloe. That will be really nice!” She waved goodbye, headed towards the door. If she was going to walk all the way to Adrien’s house, and still get back in time for math tutoring with Mme. Mendeleiev, she was going to have to run!

 

.:|:.

 

Lila flipped the pages in her textbook, not really reading the words. A waiter stepped up to her table, laying down a fresh cup of tea. “Thank you,” she said, without looking up. She waited for him to step away from her table before slowly adding lemon juice. No sugar or cream. She couldn’t stand sweet things.

Well, it was becoming obvious now. This was the fourth cafe she had stopped at. At each one, a few moments after sitting down, she would notice it. A man in a business suit-- a different one, every time-- would also take a seat at a table not far away, in viewing distance of hers. And would stay for as long as she did, even as the hour got later and later. They never looked at her, and she knew she wasn’t doing anything spectacularly interesting, reading over her homework. But they were definitely following her, no matter how many cafes she went to.

She was irritated, but she kept the expression off her face. Instead, casually, she took a sip of her tea, then excused herself to the bathroom.

Five minutes later, Lila returned to her table, picked up her book, and resumed reading. Volpina, on the other hand, escaped out of the bathroom window, ducking into a back alley. She wasn’t sure how long they would fall for the illusion she had left behind. She didn’t care. She ran for it, glancing over her shoulder, every muscle braced with nervous tension.

 

.:|:.

 

“You are being utterly impossible and paranoid right now.”

Gabriel Agreste watched Nathalie flip through his latest sketches, choosing his words. “It’s not so impossible,” he said slowly. “I would dare say it’s even become commonplace in Paris, in recent months, for people to become possessed.”

“And whose fault is that, M. Agreste?”

He didn’t flinch. That was fair. “You can’t deny his behavior was very out of character. You’re too intelligent to fall for that, Nathalie, I know you are.”

“How droll,” she said, holding a sketch of a unique-looking flared skirt up to the light. “Now that you’re powerless, and I’m the only one that you think can help you, suddenly you acknowledge that I’m good at anything.”

“I acknowledged it before,” he protested. “I was harsh with you, perhaps. But I would not have kept you on for so long if you weren’t very capable.”

“Well, now I don’t work for you,” Nathalie said, glancing at him. “I work for Adrien. And yes, I admit, he was a little strange at first. But it’s jet lag. Lots of people get it. He’s recovering now-- a little sleep last night, and today he’s scarcely any different.”

“But a little different,” Gabriel said, seizing on that. “Even still.”

Nathalie rolled her eyes. “Not enough to throw around baseless accusations of-- of what, demon possession? Or do you still have butterflies hidden away somewhere that we don’t know about?”

The intercom beeped from a wall console in Gabriel’s study. Nathalie reached over, pressing the button. “Yes?”

“Ma’am, there’s a girl here at the front,” the security guard’s voice replied. “A Sabrina… Ahh, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch the last name. She says she has something for Adrien?”

“She’s one of his classmates,” Nathalie replied. “Go ahead and let her up. I’m too busy to escort her right now, but he’s probably in his room.”

“Yes ma’am.” The intercom clicked off.

Gabriel looked at Nathalie, pleading. “I know my son. Something has happened. I’m sure of it. I’m begging you to help me.”

“What has happened is that he is growing up, and you don’t know him as well as you think you do,” Nathalie said. “You are already being offered a great deal of leniency in this situation, M. Agreste. I’ll thank you not to make life difficult for us by invoking the supernatural every time one of us sneezes. I’ll permit you to stay here, if that’s what the lawyers want. But make no mistake, you are not the master of this house anymore, and you will not be allowed to interfere with our lives at every opportunity in some selfish attempt to keep yourself relevant. Adrien deserves better than that from you.”

She slid the stack of drawings back at him. “And these need more work. A-line collars are out of style this season. Adapt to the new trends, or we will go elsewhere.”

He took the drawings back, watching her leave with supreme frustration.

 

.:|:.

 

Sabrina picked her way up the marble staircase, mentally following the directions the guard had given her. This landing, and three doors down… She paused in front of his door, digging in her bag for the stack of papers.

“Hold on, hold on, I think I’ve got it.”

A female voice? And too high-pitched to be Marinette’s. Well. This was interesting. Curious, she reached down and slowly turned the door handle, cracking the door open just the tiniest bit.

Adrien sat with his back to her in the room beyond, staring at a three-sceen computer setup. On the middle, largest screen, a video began to play. A fashion reporter in a shiny golden dress excitedly talked for a moment, before turning and holding out the microphone to Adrien Agreste. The boy, almost bashfully, began to answer her questions about the outfit he was wearing, drawing the focus away from himself and onto the designer, seamstresses, make-up artists, and everyone else involved. Every movement was self-minimizing and focused on the people around him.

“I think I get it,” Adrien said from the chair below, watching his own interview. “At the very least, I’m getting a much better sense for his mannerisms and speech patterns now. He’s very far from my initial guess-- spoiled rich boys from important families aren’t usually like this at all.”

“Unless they’ve been sheltered. Or, I don’t know, maybe traumatized somehow,” the high-pitched female voice said.

“Perhaps,” Adrien said, eyes on the screen. “It’s all predictable enough, either way. The one thing that’s getting me is… Play the other one again. The one where they’re interviewing him while he’s wearing that mask, and he suddenly turns all smart-mouthed.”

The browser suddenly closed. Adrien looked down. “Why did you do that? I wanted to watch that video!”

“I’m trying!” A yellow shape zipped up, with a long striped tail and two small white puffballs, one on either side of her head. “I’m getting the hang of this device, but it was designed for human fingers! These are what I have to work with!” She waved her two stubby hands at him, frustrated.

“Another kwami,” Sabrina whispered, stepping away from the door in shock. And something was wrong with Adrien. She didn’t understand what was going on, but she suddenly felt very uncomfortable. She turned--

A wall of thorny vines had grown up silently behind her while she had been focused on Adrien, blocking off all escape. They filled the hall, thick and dark, the thorns easily twelve or fifteen centimeters long each. In front of her, a very smug-looking gray kwami hovered, feathery wing shapes extending from his back, thick black rimming menacing eyes. “Boo,” he said.

Sabrina screamed.

Adrien yanked the door open, stepping through and grabbing her, pressing a bandaged hand over her mouth. She struggled, fighting him. He wasn’t transformed, and yet somehow he was still so unnaturally strong, able to hold her tightly with barely any effort. “Good work, Shrike,” he said to the gray kwami. “Who is she?”

“I’m not certain,” the gray kwami-- Shrike-- said. “But your host is a student, and she seems to be as well. Perhaps they are colleagues.”

“Ah, yes, the school,” Adrien said, grip tightening around Sabrina slightly. “I’ll have to avoid forgetting about that as well. So much to remember! This Adrien really was a busy kid.”

“What do we do with her?” Shrike asked, angry. “She saw us. We can’t just let her go!”

“Hmm.” Adrien looked down at the girl, watching her thrash and cry, and utter muffled pleas into his hand. “Well. Marmoset was just saying she needed a better body to figure out the computer. Right?”

Behind him, the yellow kwami grinned. She bent down, picking up a bracelet, strung with beads carved from some sort of dark wood. She flew toward them, carrying it.

Terrified, Sabrina tried to pull away as Adrien grabbed her wrist, lifting it. Useless, all of it was useless. He was too strong, and she couldn’t stop him. The bracelet was pushed onto her arm, there was a brief sensation of falling…

And then everything was black.


	4. Part Four

The morning was cold and slightly overcast, wind whistling through the streets. Nino tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes as he walked down the sidewalk, warming his hands around a thermos. Normally, when he was tired, he played fast-paced music as he walked to help wake him up. None of it was working today, though, and he had given up and lowered the headphones to hang from his neck.

Which was probably better, because otherwise, he wouldn’t have noticed the car. The traffic on the street was a little bad, being morning rush hour. But still, there was little excuse for how slowly this car drove, following him for turn after turn just a couple of blocks behind. He frowned at it, before ducking down a narrow alley.

On the other side of the alley, it was only a block or two to the Cesaire restaurant. His steps picked up a little as he spotted Alya, waiting on the sidewalk outside for him, two duffel bags resting at her feet. “Good morning!” he called.

“Coffee,” she called back, a little grumpy.

He held out the thermos, taking in the redness of her eyes, the slightly unfocused way she grabbed for it. “You know, we’re still pretty young. I don’t think we’re really supposed to be drinking coffee like this until we’re older.”

“I just pulled an all-nighter building these things,” Alya replied, nudging one of the bags with her foot. “If I’m going to get through class today, I’ve got to have caffeine.”

Nino bent down, unzipping the duffel bag closest to him. Inside were dozens of round cameras with magnetic backs and wireless receivers, currently deactivated and packed in tightly together. They looked identical to the ones they had used around the city and in the Agreste mansion, months before. “Awesome work” he said, re-zipping the bag. “You’re amazing. If you want to nap behind your book in class, the rest of us will cover for you.”

Alya pulled away from her coffee long enough to yawn. “No, no. I need to pay attention. If I don’t keep my grades up…”

“What?” Nino asked, amused. “You won’t win the plane tickets? We all know that’s going to go to Max or some other genius anyways.”

“Very funny.” She took another sip of coffee, then bent down, pulling the strap from one of the bags over her shoulder. “Help me with these. On lunch break, we can start planting them around the city.”

“Are there enough here to cover everywhere?” he asked, picking up the other bag.

“It’s enough to start. I can build more later. If Sabertooth shows up again, chances are one of the cameras will catch her.” Another yawn. “The question is, who’s going to be watching the cameras, while we’re all so busy with school?”

“Maybe we can teach the kwamis to do it,” Nino suggested. “And in the evenings, we don’t all have tutoring sessions at the same time. We can take turns, keeping the cameras up in the background while we study.”

“Yeah, right. Lately we can’t even get people to show up to meetings, even when there’s an actual emergency. How are we going to get them to pack this in as well?”

She was talking about yesterday. It wasn’t surprising, that Lila hadn’t shown up. She never answered their calls. But it was still strange that Adrien had ignored them. Even if he couldn’t transform into Chat Noir right now, they still could have used his help.

“We’ll see them today,” he said after a second. “They can’t ignore us in class.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said, taking another long sip of coffee before setting off down the sidewalk at his side.

 

.:|:.

 

“Good morning, Rose!” Lila called cheerfully. “Is that a new perfume I smell? It’s sweeter than usual-- I absolutely love it.”

“Um, yes!” Rose said, looking up as she passed Lila in the hallway. “Thanks for noticing!”

“But of course!” Lila turned the corner, into a new corridor. “How’s it going, Kim? Saw the score from the game yesterday-- pretty awesome!”

Kim looked up from his conversation with Max, giving her a pleased thumbs-up. She thumbs-upped back, grinning before turning away. “Hey! Mylene!”

_Why do you do this every morning?_ Ebbe asked, floating along behind her. _It’s clearly exhausting for you. Is a little fake camaraderie worth all of this effort?_

“You don’t know anything about surviving in school,” Lila gritted at him briefly, before flashing a stunning smile at Mylene. “ _Adore_ the new outfit.” She waved at one more person before turning into the door of her classroom, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

And nearly ran straight into Juleka, who had been trying to flee out the door. She flinched away at the last second before they could collide, pulling an embarrassed, apologetic smile onto her face. It froze seconds later. Juleka was clearly upset, on the verge of tears, barely holding it together. Lila glanced down. On one of Juleka’s shaking hands, a piece of jewelry dangled from half-broken strings, twisted and bent. She caught a glimpse of a tiny mirror, one that had been smashed, before Juleka hid it behind her back.

“Excuse me,” Juleka said, voice tight, eyes averted.

“What happened?” Lila asked. The jewelry hadn’t been accidentally broken. It looked like someone had stepped on it. Maybe while it was still on Juleka’s hand.

“N-nothing,” Juleka said, struggling to suppress her emotions. “Really. It was just--”

Lila glanced behind her. Saw, immediately, the black butterfly someone had drawn on the cover of one of Juleka’s books, sitting on her desk several rows above. She frowned, all pretense of pleasantness dropped. “Juleka. Look at me.”

The shy girl reluctantly raised her eyes.

“Tell me who did this.”

 

.:|:.

 

Marinette looked up as Alya slid into the seat beside her, dropping a huge duffel bag into the aisle beside them. Alya immediately leaned forward and lay her head in her arms, mumbling something vaguely unhappy.

“Rough night?” Marinette asked sympathetically.

“Mmfghph.”

Marinette patted her gently. She herself had woken up late, and hadn’t had time to eat a real breakfast, so had settled for pulling a cinammon roll out of one of the display cases as she ran out the front door of the bakery. She split it in two now, pushing half of the roll toward Alya. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

“Thank you,” Alya said, lifting her head blearily. “That’s really nice of--” She stopped, noticing the peacock kwami peeking out of her backpack. Sighed. “...Go ahead, little guy.”

“Thanks, Alya!” the kwami said, pouncing on the cinnamon roll.

More students were filing in, although there wasn’t any sign of Miss Bustier yet. Marinette watched them pass through the front door, pretending not to notice as the peacock kwami started in on her breakfast too. Ivan. Alix. Nathanael. And--

“Adrien!” Waving, she got up, moving toward him--

And immediately tripped over Alya’s duffel bag. She cried out as she fell, trying in vain to catch her balance, nearly knocking Adrien over as well. He stiffened and braced himself, grabbing onto her arms.

“Th-thanks,” she said, rattled. “Sorry, I don’t know what it is this morning. Everything feels slightly off.” She hadn’t stayed up as late as Alya, but she had still been out longer than she should have been, covering patrols for everyone else. “Are you hurt?”

“Oh, no, not at all!” Just the slightest of pauses from Adrien as he studied her face. “Marinette.” He settled her back on the step just above his, smiling gently at her. “You really scared me there.”

“I scared myself,” she said, before looking down again. “Are those gloves?”

He looked at the gray fabric covering his hands, then shrugged, slightly embarrassed. “New fashion trend, apparently. You know how it goes. They wanted me to try them out.”

“Really?” She considered them, frowning. Normally she was able to keep up with the fashion world pretty decently. Ladybug and school were taking up so much of her time lately; she had fallen farther behind than she’d realized. She turned his hands over, not sure if she liked this new fad or not. “Weird.”

“Totally agree.” He started to slide past her. “Anyways, I think class starts in a couple of minutes, so--”

“Where were you last night?” she asked. “No, wait-- where were you this entire last _weekend_? You haven’t been returning any of my calls or texts.”

“Oh, you know what?” He laughed sheepishly. “I completely forgot to tell you. I dropped my phone on… On _Saturday_ , and it broke. I didn’t get it replaced until last night, and by then, it was late.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Really. I’m sorry, Marinette. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

She frowned at him. “It’s not that. I know you can take care of yourself. But what were you doing in the south of France? You just took off, without telling anyone, like--”

“You’re full of questions today,” he said, tilting his head with an amused smile. “Am I on trial?”

“N-no, it’s just--” What was with the stuttering? She thought she had moved past that, as she got to know Adrien better. “I’m just trying to understand. It’s not like you to just leave in secret like that, especially with so much going on here. Did something happen, or--”

He leaned forward suddenly, too quick for her to anticipate. His arms wrapped tight around her, and he was kissing her. Her thoughts shorted out before she could piece them together more, heat rushing to her face. They were in the middle of class. People were watching. But his lips were soft and seeking against hers, if slightly forceful, and after a second or two she wasn’t thinking about the others at all.

He drew away after only a few moments, smirking. “Marinette,” he said quietly, still leaned in close. “When someone you’re dating disappears suddenly without telling you, chances are that they’re planning a surprise. Right? You shouldn’t pry.”

“O-okay,” she managed, a little stunned.

He patted her on the shoulder, before turning away. “We’ll talk more later. For now, I’m interested in this class we’re about to have.”

Alya laughed as Marinette sank back into the seat beside her, shaking her head. “There goes any chance of you thinking clearly for the next half-hour, huh? So much for class.”

“So much for a lot of things,” Marinette said, blinking at the cinnamon roll crumbs in front of her. A very brief pause. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think he did that on purpose.” It had worked, if so. She was distracted, not able to remember what she had been asking just minutes ago.

“Psh,” Alya said. “As if Adrien could be that smooth.”

Nino glanced at Adrien curiously as the boy sat down beside him. “What about email and social media? We tried those too, you know. You really just weren’t online at all the entire weekend?”

“It was a busy weekend,” Adrien said defensively.

“I know, I know, school. The rest of us are busy too. Still, though, we could have used your help, Chat Noir or not. It’s not like you to let yourself get out of touch like that.” Nino shook his head. What was he, Adrien’s mother? “Anyways, you can make up for it at lunch time.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

“Cameras.” Nino nodded toward the big duffel bag stashed under their desk. “Just like before. Alya stayed up all night making these. The least we can do is skip one meal planting them around the city, right? If Sabertooth tries to make a move again, we’ll see it before she gets far.”

“Sabertooth,” Adrien repeated.

“Oh man, you really are behind.” Nino tapped at his phone, pulling up the Ladyblog, then pushed it toward him. It was easier than explaining it all from the beginning.

Adrien glanced over the article there, then down at the duffel bag again. Very quickly, he quietly glanced across the aisle at Sabrina, sitting primly in her own seat. She met his eyes and nodded once before looking away.

Miss Bustier shut the door as she passed through it, exhaling. She was a little late, and perhaps had overslept slightly-- the normally immaculately-groomed teacher seemed a little more hastily put together than normal, as far as hair, clothes, and make-up. “Okay, everyone,” she said, quickly dropping her bag behind the podium and reaching for the chalk. “Seats, please. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so we’re diving directly into Yeats. Er, let’s see…” She turned, quickly scanning over the rows of faces. “Alya. Will you read the poem from the homework for us, please?”

“Yes ma’am,” Alya said, quickly putting on her best not-half-asleep face and flipping open the book. Of course, on the one day they were all there and on time, Miss Bustier would forget to take attendance to even notice it. Shrugging it off, she found the poem, trying to concentrate. Something felt off. Adrien and Nino in front of her, check. Marinette beside her, also check. Lila in the back row, glaring fervently out the window for whatever reason, yet another check. Everyone in their group _was_ here, and yet it felt like something was missing, like she’d forgotten someone.

“Alya?” Miss Bustier said.

“Sorry,” Alya said, fighting a yawn. The words were swimming on the page. “Um… ‘I will arise and go now, and go to In...Innis, uh--’”

Chloe scoffed loudly. “It’s pronounced ‘In-nis-free’, Bird Brain. Just like it’s spelled. Gawd, what are you, still in primary school?”

“That’s enough, Chloe,” Miss Bustier said, in no mood for nonsense today.

Alya glared at her. She could read. She had been reading tiny lines of code and instruction manuals for camera parts all night, in fact! Chloe looked so smug, shooting Sabrina a victorious look, although for once, Sabrina didn’t look up from her own book. Struggling with her own scrambled ability to concentrate, Alya scanned over the blurry lines, trying to return to where she had been. Something about honey-bees, something about a lake, veils of morning and crickets--

Crickets. Crickets were green, lakes were blue. Where had her kwami gone?

The blare of the fire alarm tore over the classroom, sudden and loud. Alya jumped slightly in surprise, along with everyone else who was sleep-deprived and over-worked. Miss Bustier blinked rapidly, looking up at the flashing lights with a frown. “Again? Alright, children, line up! Single file and-- Adrien? Are you alright?”

They had all jumped. No one had jumped more than Adrien had, though. The boy was crouched on top of his desk, looking around with wild eyes. “What is that noise?” he hissed, clamping his gloved hands over his ears. “Are we under attack?”

“It’s just the fire alarm, dude!” Nino called over the siren, confused. “Remember? We’ve had a few drills before.”

“Oh, right,” Miss Bustier sighed. “Homeschooled kid. Everyone, stop staring! Line up, _now_.”

 

.:|:.

 

Behind the school, at the far end of a nearby street, a gardener had paused in his work, a pair of hedgeclippers in his hands. He had been standing still for several minutes now, watching. On the door of a small shop, he had drawn a design in a circle, an upside-down “A”, the edges curled out. Despite being drawn in red, no one had seemed to notice it yet.

He leaned against the half-untrimmed hedges, watching a businesswoman on a cellphone walk toward the shop, busy and distracted. She glanced up at the symbol and frowned in disapproval, but put her hand out anyways to push the door open, glancing at her watch. Then froze, as the symbol on the door lit up suddenly at contact with her skin, and a necklace began to materialize around her neck.

Satisfied, the gardener turned away, dropping his clippers. He reached up, grabbing the strange hairpin in his hair, a thin silver one with a very small jewel at the tip, shaped like a bird’s head. Carefully, he pulled it free, making sure to hold it tightly between fingers without breaking skin contact. He looked around, then threw it suddenly.

It zipped through the air, thrown expertly toward the young woman wiping down outdoor tables at a cafe nearby. She jerked slightly as she felt something land in the neat bun at the nape of her neck, but by then, it was already too late. Shrike overpowered her quickly and took control, then raised his new human hand to adjust the pin, shaking her head so that her blonde hair would fall over the miraculous pin and hide it.

Across the street, the gardener was shaking his head, confused, completely unaware that he had spent the last thirty minutes possessed. Too easy, so far. The humans in this city were all soft and unprepared, and he was almost starting to get bored. He reached into the woman’s apron, pulling out a felt-tip pen, and began to draw a new circle and symbol on the seat of one of the chairs.

A tugging sensation. He paused, frowning. Glanced around, then slipped away into an alley in the young woman’s body, ducking behind a dumpster. “I transform myself,” he whispered.

Light flashed around him, transforming his host body. It was always a little different, from human to human, but certain things always seemed to be the same with the design, he noticed. Usually a silver and black color scheme, usually thorn and vine motifs, almost always a hood over the head. And of course, as with all kwamis, a weapon-- in his case a spiked flail. As the light and energy of the transformation faded, he lifted the flail’s handle, glancing at the message he had been sent.

Oh. Marmoset had a job for him already, this early in the day. Shrike grinned to himself and turned in the direction of the school, giving his weapon an experimental twirl.

 

.:|:.

 

The peacock kwami phased through walls, eyes wide with panic. So loud, so loud! He pressed his tiny hands to his ears, zipping blindly ahead into the open air, desperate to get away from the painful blaring.

A hand reached out, grabbing him mid-flight. He struggled for a moment, twisting around, then broke into a grin. “Alya!”

“Little guy.” Alya’s red-rimmed eyes were frantic, as she stood slightly apart from the rest of her class, where they were gathered in the street outside of the school. “You can _not_ keep doing this, do you understand?! You’ve got to stop! You are going to get me _expelled!_ ”

The blue and green kwami stared up at her, at the anger and panic on her face. She had never scolded him before, not seriously.

“What happened?” Marinette asked, moving toward them, Tikki tailing her. “Why are you--”

“He phased through the fire alarm again,” Alya said, turning toward her. “Didn’t you, little guy?”

“Y-yeah, but--”

Alya shook her head, running an agitated hand through her hair. “Listen to me. There’s an electric current running through that thing. When you phase through, even though you pass through the solid material, you interrupt the current, just for a moment, and short it out. They’re going to think _I_ did it. I’m going to get in serious trouble because of you!”

“I’m s-sorry, Alya!” the kwami cried. “I didn’t know!”

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Marinette said, putting a hand on Alya’s shoulder. “None of the teachers saw it, I think. They’re still completely confused. We’ll just be more careful from now on, right?”

Alya took a breath. She was tired. Everything seemed like a bigger deal than it probably was. She needed to calm down. She exhaled and made herself smile at Marinette. “You’re right. I’m freaking out even more than Adrien, huh?”

“Speaking of which, where _is_ Adrien?” Marinette glanced around their group of students, searching for him. He seemed to have disappeared. Or maybe not-- now that more classes were filing out into the street, it was hard to tell. She shook her head. “What if the sprinklers go off?” she asked. “Will that hurt the cameras?”

“No, they’re waterproof,” Alya said, releasing her kwami. She yawned. “So’s the duffel bag material. They should be fine.”

_BOOM._ A bright flash from above.

Alya jerked, suddenly wide-eyed and wide-awake. “Unless the self-destruct mechanism goes off!”

Marinette gaped at her. “You built a _self-destruct_ mechanism into the cameras?!”

“Hey, you never know when you’ll need it!” Alya said, grabbing her hand. She began to run back toward the school, waving to get Nino’s attention. “And it wasn’t supposed to just go off on its own!” Being expelled would be nothing compared to what would happen if they all ended up detonating right in the classroom.

Miss Bustier looked up from her roll call, alarmed. “You two-- wait!”

“Be right back!” Alya called, pulling Marinette, tripping and stumbling, behind her. She flipped through her phone as she climbed the stairs, pulling up the camera controls. A self-destruct impulse should have brought them all online, but strangely, they were all still dormant. Worse than dormant, green boxes beside camera names were turning red, almost like, like--

They turned the corner back into the empty classroom, filled with abandoned books and bags. Empty, except for one woman, in a black and silver hooded outfit, standing on the stairs between rows of desks with her back to them. Alya and Marinette’s desk was completely destroyed, where giant spikes had risen out of the ground, ripping through the wood and the duffel bag beneath. As they watched, the woman tightened her fist and jerked up, and more spikes grew, piercing through Adrien and Nino’s desk below.

“The cameras,” Alya breathed, eyes wide. “She’s crushed them. Most of them-- maybe all of them…!”

Marinette glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. Alya was exhausted, her guard lowered more than usual. So it was easy for Marinette to see how upset she was, on the verge of tears over having an entire night of hard work destroyed in a few seconds. Marinette clenched her fists and rounded on the hooded supervillainess. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“Ladybug, is it?” the hooded supervillainess asked, turning to face them slowly. She smirked, expression nasty behind the thick eyeliner. “Or-- not Ladybug. Ladybug’s current pet human.”

“Tikki,” Marinette yelled, “Transform--!”

“I’d love to stay and fight,” the supervillainess said. “Really, I would. Insects are my favorites. But, you know, places to go, people to corrupt. I have other orders, so I can’t play today.” She flicked her wrist, snapping the flail at them. A long thorn-like spike broke off, hurtling toward them. Alya grabbed Marinette and pulled her to the side just in time.

When they looked up, the hooded figure was jumping out of the window, reaching out to grab onto a tall tree.

“Transform me!” Marinette yelled, running to give chase.

Alya didn’t follow. She was still upset. But her eyes had narrowed. She moved up the steps, dodging spikes and broken pieces of wood and cameras. She grabbed the thermos off of her desk, taking a big gulp. Then she opened her laptop (thankfully just knocked off of her desk, not shattered) and immediately let her fingers begin flying over the screen. “Little Guy. I need you to do something.”

“Sure,” the blue kwami said, still stunned and bewildered. “Anything.”

She dug her keys out of her pocket, and carefully slid a keychain off of the ring, a plain-looking black plastic stick. She pressed it into the peacock kwami’s hands, then pointed out the window. “Follow them. Get this thing onto that woman. It’s very important. Can you do that?”

“I’ll try my best!” the kwami said, zipping after Marinette.  
“And don’t phase through walls with it!” Alya called after it. She was already pulling up new screens, ducking beneath an undamaged desk to protect her laptop from the sprinklers, watching a map of Paris load as her machine connected to wifi. She cracked her knuckles, yawned one last time, and got to work.


End file.
